Today, Leap day, we can celebrate Blessed Louisa Albertoni (1473 - 1533), laywoman. She lost her father when she was yet an infant and though her mother married again, her mother and the stepfather didn't raise her. She was farmed out to the family: raised first by her grandmother and then by two of her aunts. She had an arranged marriage to James de Cithara, also of Rome, and though she didn't choose him, she certainly grew to love him. They had three children together; then he died in 1506. She was devastated. But now she could do as she liked -- and what she liked was living the Gospel imperative: sell and give what you have to the poor. And she did so, but not all at once. (It doesn't say you necessarily have to do so all at once!) She put off her fancy clothes and many possessions and embraced voluntary poverty and a simple lifestyle. She had a unique way of giving to the poor: she'd often bake loaves of bread, baking into each varying quantities of silver and/or gold coins, and praying that the larger amounts would make it into the hands of those most in need.
She succeeded in giving away all she had and "dying broke," but she was happy and marked with profound peace of soul. She quietly slipped away from this life repeating, "Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit." Amen. Blessed Louisa, pray for us.
Friday, February 29, 2008
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Today February 28
Today is the feast of St. Angela of Foligno (1248 - 1309), third-order Franciscan. She had been a laywoman -- and a worldly one at that. She was married and had a child, and enjoyed all that the world had to offer . . . until a profound conversion occurred and a personal tragedy: her mother, husband and child all died within a short time of each other. She joined the Third order community of Franciscans -- drawn to them perhaps because during her conversion, she had a vivid dream of St. Francis.
She was not only a fervent penitent, she was a marvelously sensitive soul. She often spoke (and wrote) of her "soul's eyes" through which she saw God's goodness in creation, Christ's passion in real time, and the Trinity "as clearly as possible in this life." But she was no "ivory tower" mystic; she took her place working among the sick and homeless of Foligno, and even among the most outcast: the lepers in a local hospital. Her mystical visions informed her whole piety, in fact, her whole life -- she was aware of speaking only of God and of seeing all in relation to God; she was, indeed, preoccupied by God.
She was not immune, however, to great spiritual dryness and bitter doubt. Could her supernatural visions be of the devil? But she hung on with humble stubbornness and endured many spiritual and physical privations. She even wished she were dead. But she persevered and went on to share her deepest thoughts which, in the end, were consolations to her. She said the soul experiences God entering it with totally unexpected "fire, love and sweetness," but that there is never full assurance. The soul is illuminated and embraced.
When she died, she had the profound mystical experience of being covered in the Precious Blood (really feeling and experiencing it) and of Our Lord gently leading her into the Father's marvelous presence. It was nice of her to share this vision. Naturally eloquent, she wrote straightforwardly and well, even though she often stated that what she experienced was "beyond words." St. Angela of Foligno, pray for us.
She was not only a fervent penitent, she was a marvelously sensitive soul. She often spoke (and wrote) of her "soul's eyes" through which she saw God's goodness in creation, Christ's passion in real time, and the Trinity "as clearly as possible in this life." But she was no "ivory tower" mystic; she took her place working among the sick and homeless of Foligno, and even among the most outcast: the lepers in a local hospital. Her mystical visions informed her whole piety, in fact, her whole life -- she was aware of speaking only of God and of seeing all in relation to God; she was, indeed, preoccupied by God.
She was not immune, however, to great spiritual dryness and bitter doubt. Could her supernatural visions be of the devil? But she hung on with humble stubbornness and endured many spiritual and physical privations. She even wished she were dead. But she persevered and went on to share her deepest thoughts which, in the end, were consolations to her. She said the soul experiences God entering it with totally unexpected "fire, love and sweetness," but that there is never full assurance. The soul is illuminated and embraced.
When she died, she had the profound mystical experience of being covered in the Precious Blood (really feeling and experiencing it) and of Our Lord gently leading her into the Father's marvelous presence. It was nice of her to share this vision. Naturally eloquent, she wrote straightforwardly and well, even though she often stated that what she experienced was "beyond words." St. Angela of Foligno, pray for us.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Today February 27
Today is the feast day of St. Gabriel Possenti (1838 -1862), another saint who sought to gain sanctity through the "little way," something the Anonymous Catholic Housewife understands. Now Gabriel wasn't always so convicted; he lived a dissolute and worldly life as a young man -- and a perfectly normal childhood: he got angry, he was fussy about his food and dress, he loved entertainment, he was lively and cheerful. No visions. No self-torture. A breath of fresh air is Gabriel Possenti. But what made him change? What woke him up? A dangerous illness. He made a bargain with God: cure me and I will dedicate my life to you. He WAS cured, but, as so often happens, he got back into the swing of things and forgot all about his promise. But he was attacked AGAIN and THIS time he took it seriously.
He tried to enter the Jesuits -- he was accepted -- but he still held back. He knew, I think, that that particular order, lofty though it is, wasn't his calling. He finally decided on the Passionists (a perfect fit), with the full approval of his Jesuit confessor.
And thus began a life of extraordinary virtue doing ordinary things, a way of sanctity open to us all. Are all preachers? No. Are all teachers? No. Are all administrators? Certainly not. But all are men and all can come to holiness. For example, he put up with his illnesses and his weaknesses, he deferred to others with cheerfulness and charity, he exactly followed every rule, he did not argue or defend himself when others made fun of him (tough to do). He controlled his "warm temper" and always gave firm and honest replies to all questions; he denied himself many small pleasures (a real martyrdom, yet he was always full of joy); by a supreme act of will he stayed faithful though he was plagued by spiritual aridity and doubt. He had a great devotion to Our Lady and often prayed to her. He took her name as part of his own: Gabriel of the Sorrowful Mother. He repaired a broken statue of hers to great beauty.
He did have one incident of drama in an otherwise quiet life. When King Victor Emmanuel's forces raided Isola (the small mountain town where the Passionists had their monastery), the rector locked himself in his room and all the monks hid in the sanctuary, but Gabriel went out alone into the town. Seeing several soldiers kidnap and drag a young girl away, he confronted them. Grabbing a pistol from one of the soldiers' own holsters, he threatened to shoot them if they didn't disarm and unhand the girl. The senior officer just laughed -- until Gabriel took aim at a tiny lizard across the road and shot him dead. The soldiers dropped their weapons and beat a hasty retreat.
Not long after, Gabriel's health began to fade. He'd had a nagging cough for quite some time; now it had developed into full-blown tuberculosis. He died holding a picture of Our Lady and his last words were "Jesus, Mary and Joseph." The whole town came out for his funeral.
St. Gabriel Possenti, pray for us.
He tried to enter the Jesuits -- he was accepted -- but he still held back. He knew, I think, that that particular order, lofty though it is, wasn't his calling. He finally decided on the Passionists (a perfect fit), with the full approval of his Jesuit confessor.
And thus began a life of extraordinary virtue doing ordinary things, a way of sanctity open to us all. Are all preachers? No. Are all teachers? No. Are all administrators? Certainly not. But all are men and all can come to holiness. For example, he put up with his illnesses and his weaknesses, he deferred to others with cheerfulness and charity, he exactly followed every rule, he did not argue or defend himself when others made fun of him (tough to do). He controlled his "warm temper" and always gave firm and honest replies to all questions; he denied himself many small pleasures (a real martyrdom, yet he was always full of joy); by a supreme act of will he stayed faithful though he was plagued by spiritual aridity and doubt. He had a great devotion to Our Lady and often prayed to her. He took her name as part of his own: Gabriel of the Sorrowful Mother. He repaired a broken statue of hers to great beauty.
He did have one incident of drama in an otherwise quiet life. When King Victor Emmanuel's forces raided Isola (the small mountain town where the Passionists had their monastery), the rector locked himself in his room and all the monks hid in the sanctuary, but Gabriel went out alone into the town. Seeing several soldiers kidnap and drag a young girl away, he confronted them. Grabbing a pistol from one of the soldiers' own holsters, he threatened to shoot them if they didn't disarm and unhand the girl. The senior officer just laughed -- until Gabriel took aim at a tiny lizard across the road and shot him dead. The soldiers dropped their weapons and beat a hasty retreat.
Not long after, Gabriel's health began to fade. He'd had a nagging cough for quite some time; now it had developed into full-blown tuberculosis. He died holding a picture of Our Lady and his last words were "Jesus, Mary and Joseph." The whole town came out for his funeral.
St. Gabriel Possenti, pray for us.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Today February 26
Today is the feast of St. Irene (3rd century), widow. She found St. Sebasian's nearly lifeless body after he'd been used as target practice by the Roman archers and she nursed him back to health. She is the subject of a beautiful classical painting by Hendrick Terbrugghen (1588 - 1629). She is shown as intent and intelligent as she removes each arrow with the care of a surgeon and the assistance of her maid. (She wasn't the platonic female friend who fished his actually lifeless body out of the sewer later after he was martyred for going back to the Romans and still refusing to worship their gods. That other Christian woman was named Lucina.) This Irene is also not the same one as Agape and Chionia's companion who was martyred with them for refusing to eat meat sacrificed to the gods and having in her possession copies of the Scriptures. (Imagine if having a Bible were punishable by death today. Oh, wait a minute. In some countries, it IS.) That Irene is celebrated on another day.
This widow woman is celebrated today, but I'm not absolutely sure she was canonized. At any rate, we can take comfort in the fact that she is honored for a single act, for, as the Master said, whatever you do to the least of my brothers, that you do unto Me. Amen. St. Irene, pray for us.
This widow woman is celebrated today, but I'm not absolutely sure she was canonized. At any rate, we can take comfort in the fact that she is honored for a single act, for, as the Master said, whatever you do to the least of my brothers, that you do unto Me. Amen. St. Irene, pray for us.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Today February 25
Today is the feast of St. Walburga (died 779), virgin. Although her feast day is -- and has always been -- today, her name invokes the unhallowed celebration of the witches (Walpurgisnacht, "Walburga's Night") on May 1st, we don't know why.
Walburga (aka Waldburg, or Walpurg) was the sister of Saints Winebald and Willibald, missionaries from England to the then-untamed Germany. The men went first and then when it was discovered that women were needed, Walburga went over. She lived with and spiritually directed the German women. She and her brother Winebald ran a co-ed monastery for awhile in Heidenheim and then she ran both by herself at the direction of her other brother, Willibald, then Bishop of Eichstatt. She served long and well and was noted as a medical student and physician.
That's kind of appropriate because her bones exude an oil that has curative powers even to this day, even though they are scattered among various churches in Europe (including Brussels, Antwerp, Thielt, Zutphen and Groningen.)
St. Walburga, pray for us.
Walburga (aka Waldburg, or Walpurg) was the sister of Saints Winebald and Willibald, missionaries from England to the then-untamed Germany. The men went first and then when it was discovered that women were needed, Walburga went over. She lived with and spiritually directed the German women. She and her brother Winebald ran a co-ed monastery for awhile in Heidenheim and then she ran both by herself at the direction of her other brother, Willibald, then Bishop of Eichstatt. She served long and well and was noted as a medical student and physician.
That's kind of appropriate because her bones exude an oil that has curative powers even to this day, even though they are scattered among various churches in Europe (including Brussels, Antwerp, Thielt, Zutphen and Groningen.)
St. Walburga, pray for us.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Today February 24
Today is the traditional feast of St. Matthias (First century), apostle. The only reliable information we have on him is found in the Acts of the Apostles. He was a follower of Jesus from the time of His Baptism to the Pentecost and was one of the candidates (along with Joseph called Barsabus and nicknamed "the Just") to take the place of Judas. The apostles prayed to God to direct their choice and chose by casting lots (sort of akin to rolling dice). Cool. Wouldn't it be something if God could show us so dramatically in all such choices? But the time of all that is over. Instead it falls on us to do research and to use reason, though we still do pray. And I do believe that in decisions that are still unclear, God will enlighten you with a deep and persistent feeling in your heart. That, of course, implies a morally neutral choice, because it is assumed one's conscience is well-informed!
And this apostle, whose name means "given by God" was indeed a gift for the new church. He stressed over and over the importance of self-denial in controlling the flesh, a lesson he learned from Jesus Himself, and one he practiced as well as preached. He started in Judea and made his way to Cappadocia as far as the Caspian Sea. He spread the Faith wherever he went. He died in Colchis, we're not sure how, but possibly by crucifixion. His body was returned to Jerusalem and from there (in the 300s) to Rome. Dear St. Matthias, pray for us.
And this apostle, whose name means "given by God" was indeed a gift for the new church. He stressed over and over the importance of self-denial in controlling the flesh, a lesson he learned from Jesus Himself, and one he practiced as well as preached. He started in Judea and made his way to Cappadocia as far as the Caspian Sea. He spread the Faith wherever he went. He died in Colchis, we're not sure how, but possibly by crucifixion. His body was returned to Jerusalem and from there (in the 300s) to Rome. Dear St. Matthias, pray for us.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Today February 23
Today is the feast of St. Serinus, Desert Father (4th century). He was known as a very hard worker and Abba Job went to visit him to get some holy advice. "I am careful about what I do in the cell," said Abba Job, "but when I come out I do as the brothers do." Abba Serinus thought about this for awhile and said, "There is no great virtue in keeping to your regime in your cell, but there is if you keep it when you come out of your cell." The proof is in the trial, so to speak. It's easy to be an angel when nobody ruffles your feathers!
And he said, "I have spent time in harvesting, sewing and weaving, and in all those employments if the hand of God had not sustained me, I should not have been fed." Amen, brother. Good St. Serinus, pray for us.
And he said, "I have spent time in harvesting, sewing and weaving, and in all those employments if the hand of God had not sustained me, I should not have been fed." Amen, brother. Good St. Serinus, pray for us.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Today February 22
Today is the feast of St. Margaret of Cortona (1247 - 1297), rich man's mistress. The story of how she got there, and how she got to sainthood, is a long one. Well, at least the struggle to sanctity is -- the story of how she became Arsenio's mistress is a simple and sordid one. She was a happy little peasant girl but after her mom died her father remarried and the cold stepmother had no love for the little girl. She was a "hard and masterful woman who had no sympathy with the high-spirited and pleasure-loving girl," so after 6 years of fighting, the teenager ran away from home. First she lived on her own in the village of Cortona, flirting with the village boys, whom she found she could easily manipulate. There she caught the attention of the local landowner's son, Arsenio, who persuaded the lovely 13-year-old to move in with him. For 9 years she lived the life of Riley, with plenty of food to eat and servants to wait on her, marred only by the lack of commitment on the part of her lover. Finally, one day, her life turned. Arsenio's dog returned without him, cowering and whimpering in the kitchen. He tried to get Margaret to follow him and when he did, he led her to where her lover's body lay in the woods. The sight of the dead and decaying body caused Margaret to radically consider her own mortality. She repented of her fornication and immediately took the son she'd had with Arsenio and returned to her father's house. There he and the stepmother took them in, at least until her very public penance made him nervous. When she, in church, made a loud -- and detailed! -- public confession of her illicit affair of 9 years, he threw her out.
The Franciscans of Cortona kindly took her in and placed her (and her son) in a house with two sisters, Marinana and Raneria Moscari. There she lived for years -- humbly and very penitentially: sleeping on the floor, eating coarse food, beating herself occasionally. The priests remonstrated with her, but Margaret, no shrinking violet, talked back. "Do not ask me to come to terms with this body of mine, because I cannot afford it. Between me and my body there will be a struggle until death." In which I think she has a sane approach to self-denial (one way; not the ONLY way). See, she was struggling horrifically with sexual temptation, and physical penance is just what the doctor ordered. This world cannot see the reasoning there; besides, they generally see nothing wrong with sexual temptation in the first place! But Margaret prescribed strong medicine for her disease -- and it worked. She was able to give her life wholeheartedly to God and overcome her demons, so to speak. She even reached out to others and founded a hospital for the poor in Cortona and organized interested laity, men and women alike, to support it. She died as a Third Order Franciscan, a great and worthy laywoman. Dear St. Margaret, pray for us.
The Franciscans of Cortona kindly took her in and placed her (and her son) in a house with two sisters, Marinana and Raneria Moscari. There she lived for years -- humbly and very penitentially: sleeping on the floor, eating coarse food, beating herself occasionally. The priests remonstrated with her, but Margaret, no shrinking violet, talked back. "Do not ask me to come to terms with this body of mine, because I cannot afford it. Between me and my body there will be a struggle until death." In which I think she has a sane approach to self-denial (one way; not the ONLY way). See, she was struggling horrifically with sexual temptation, and physical penance is just what the doctor ordered. This world cannot see the reasoning there; besides, they generally see nothing wrong with sexual temptation in the first place! But Margaret prescribed strong medicine for her disease -- and it worked. She was able to give her life wholeheartedly to God and overcome her demons, so to speak. She even reached out to others and founded a hospital for the poor in Cortona and organized interested laity, men and women alike, to support it. She died as a Third Order Franciscan, a great and worthy laywoman. Dear St. Margaret, pray for us.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Today February 21
Today is the feast of St. Peter Damian (died 1072), doctor of the church. In those (mostly) pre-abortion days, his desperate and poor mother resorted to attempted infanticide to solve the financial burden of this child -- this future bishop, doctor, and light of the 11th century! Luckily, a woman rescued him and returned him to the now-repentant mother. Who was this woman? A priest's concubine, actually.
Peter soon found himself an orphan, however, and was farmed out to an older married brother who treated him like a slave, made him live under the stairs and fed him with the swine. (I'll bet the story of the Prodigal Son, when he heard it, really moved him, since he could so identify with his sufferings!) Cold and hungry, he ran away to another brother, a priest in Ravenna, who took him in and educated him. He was so grateful he added the brother's name (Damian) to his own. He excelled in school, especially in the humanities. He graduated and became a professor, later leaving the secular life for the monastery of Fonte Avellana "akin rather to the Carthusians than the Benedictines they styled themselves." - Angelus Book of Saints.
Peter was a man on fire. He was so incensed by and opposed to the laxity and vice in his church and his world that he feared nothing in his efforts at reform. No doubt he viewed it as an act of charity to correct his bothers. He reformed two Benedictine monasteries before becoming abbot at Fonte Avellana and was called on by a succession of popes, including Stephen IX who compelled him to clean up the Curia by joining it as the now cardinal-bishop of Ostia. He did not suffer fools gladly. He opposed any self-indulgence in his fellow bishops, even the harmless habit of playing chess! He was wrong, too, when he backed two eminently more virtuous and responsible but wholly illicit pretenders to the papacy put forward by Emperor Henry III. But he supported a later real pope, Gregory VII, who shook off the imperial yoke and enacted papal reform.
He retired to his beloved Fonte Avellana in his last days. He'd treated his body horribly -- bread and water, an iron belt, self-flagellation -- and yet he lived to the ripe old age of 83! I'm beginning to think that our supposedly bad habits don't always prevent our living to old ages, or, conversely, our supposedly good habits don't always ensure a ripe old age, either! Anyway, St. Peter mellowed out a little in his last days, writing a beautiful poem on the joys of Paradise and a charming letter to Empress Agnes. Dear St. Peter Damian, pray for us.
Peter soon found himself an orphan, however, and was farmed out to an older married brother who treated him like a slave, made him live under the stairs and fed him with the swine. (I'll bet the story of the Prodigal Son, when he heard it, really moved him, since he could so identify with his sufferings!) Cold and hungry, he ran away to another brother, a priest in Ravenna, who took him in and educated him. He was so grateful he added the brother's name (Damian) to his own. He excelled in school, especially in the humanities. He graduated and became a professor, later leaving the secular life for the monastery of Fonte Avellana "akin rather to the Carthusians than the Benedictines they styled themselves." - Angelus Book of Saints.
Peter was a man on fire. He was so incensed by and opposed to the laxity and vice in his church and his world that he feared nothing in his efforts at reform. No doubt he viewed it as an act of charity to correct his bothers. He reformed two Benedictine monasteries before becoming abbot at Fonte Avellana and was called on by a succession of popes, including Stephen IX who compelled him to clean up the Curia by joining it as the now cardinal-bishop of Ostia. He did not suffer fools gladly. He opposed any self-indulgence in his fellow bishops, even the harmless habit of playing chess! He was wrong, too, when he backed two eminently more virtuous and responsible but wholly illicit pretenders to the papacy put forward by Emperor Henry III. But he supported a later real pope, Gregory VII, who shook off the imperial yoke and enacted papal reform.
He retired to his beloved Fonte Avellana in his last days. He'd treated his body horribly -- bread and water, an iron belt, self-flagellation -- and yet he lived to the ripe old age of 83! I'm beginning to think that our supposedly bad habits don't always prevent our living to old ages, or, conversely, our supposedly good habits don't always ensure a ripe old age, either! Anyway, St. Peter mellowed out a little in his last days, writing a beautiful poem on the joys of Paradise and a charming letter to Empress Agnes. Dear St. Peter Damian, pray for us.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Today February 20
Today is the feast of Blessed Francisco (1908 - 1919) and Jacinta Marto (1910 - 1920), youthful siblings and visionaries. There's a lot to say about these little saints, and the Fatima-philes certainly have: making them sort of plaster poster children for Marian devotion and/or the coming apocalypse. I won't do that, but I won't portray them inaccurately: they WERE the unnaturally reverent and penitential figures they are portrayed to be, but only AFTER their unique Marian visions (once a month on the 13th from May to October 1917). They were entirely normal and delightful children -- Jacinta was very competitive and lively and loved to dance, her brother Francisco was easygoing and animal-loving and musical (he'd play flute while others danced). The fact that they gave up all that after their first encounter with the lovely lady dressed in white doesn't negate the fact that they were once as I described. After the vision of hell, particularly, Jacinta was subdued, downcast and ascetic. Francisco focused more on the pain of Jesus on the Cross and the great desire to comfort Him. Now I'm a great one for penance and especially giving up or "offering up" things, but how wearing tight and painful rope belts around your waist helps Jesus kind of escapes me. Even the lovely Lady admonished them not to wear them at night since they were unable to sleep for the pain. (But then how is the DAY wear of these torture devices helpful? I'm not exactly sure.) Besides, they had plenty else to offer up in reparation for their own and everybody else's sins: the disbelief and even spankings from their parents, the arrest and threats from the anti-clerical governor, the over-enthusiastic crowds that never gave them a moment's peace. This was especially hard on Francisco, a very solitary little soul.
Francisco enjoyed visiting the Blessed Sacrament and his visits there, lasting hours on end, showed his simple and fervent faith. He was very honest and straightforward and even at his death (from the worldwide influenza epidemic of 1918 - 1919), he directly asked his sister and cousin Lucia (also a Fatima visionary) what sins he had committed (that they remembered). Lucia remembered that he'd clung to his mother when she was trying to go on out-of-town errands and Jacinta remembered when he'd thrown stones at boys who were doing the same to him, and when he stole a dollar to buy a musical instrument (which he'd given up since the visions, of course). He'd already confessed those sins but he did so again.
He was a big rosary buff (even more so after the Lady became visible to him only after he started saying it -- she was both visible and audible to the girls) and he reminded his sister when she said Mary asked people to pray for sinners, "We are not just to pray for sinners, we are supposed to make sacrifice for sinners. We have been told to pray for world peace and an end to war." This message was cemented onto the struggle against Communism, but it's really a radical and pacifist message, one just as valid today even after the fall of Communism in Europe.
Jacinta, so mature (according to the testimony of her cousin Lucia, "She was a child only in years"), had plenty to offer up when her final illness came. At least Francisco died in their mother's arms. Jacinta was sent away to a hospital where she knew she would die all alone. It was a horrible sacrifice for the sweet little girl. But she embraced it in a heroic spirit. Her last words were: "I have seen our Lady. She told me that she was going to come for me very soon and take away my pains. I am going to die. I want the Sacrament." The nurse ran to find a priest, but when she came back, Jacinta was already dead. Her body was found incorrupt after an exhumation in 1935. Blessed Francisco and Jacinta, pray for us.
Francisco enjoyed visiting the Blessed Sacrament and his visits there, lasting hours on end, showed his simple and fervent faith. He was very honest and straightforward and even at his death (from the worldwide influenza epidemic of 1918 - 1919), he directly asked his sister and cousin Lucia (also a Fatima visionary) what sins he had committed (that they remembered). Lucia remembered that he'd clung to his mother when she was trying to go on out-of-town errands and Jacinta remembered when he'd thrown stones at boys who were doing the same to him, and when he stole a dollar to buy a musical instrument (which he'd given up since the visions, of course). He'd already confessed those sins but he did so again.
He was a big rosary buff (even more so after the Lady became visible to him only after he started saying it -- she was both visible and audible to the girls) and he reminded his sister when she said Mary asked people to pray for sinners, "We are not just to pray for sinners, we are supposed to make sacrifice for sinners. We have been told to pray for world peace and an end to war." This message was cemented onto the struggle against Communism, but it's really a radical and pacifist message, one just as valid today even after the fall of Communism in Europe.
Jacinta, so mature (according to the testimony of her cousin Lucia, "She was a child only in years"), had plenty to offer up when her final illness came. At least Francisco died in their mother's arms. Jacinta was sent away to a hospital where she knew she would die all alone. It was a horrible sacrifice for the sweet little girl. But she embraced it in a heroic spirit. Her last words were: "I have seen our Lady. She told me that she was going to come for me very soon and take away my pains. I am going to die. I want the Sacrament." The nurse ran to find a priest, but when she came back, Jacinta was already dead. Her body was found incorrupt after an exhumation in 1935. Blessed Francisco and Jacinta, pray for us.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Today February 19
Today is the feast day of St. Conrad of Piacenza (died 1351), layman. He could be a patron of honesty -- or against capital punishment. Conrad was a layman (technically, he died one, too; but as I've mentioned before, being in a third order was a much bigger deal in those days). He was out with a hunting party and he ordered his servants (he was a nobleman) to flush out the prey with fire. This fire spread to the grainfields and then to the surrounding villages. Conrad panicked and took off with all his men. A beggar collecting firewood in the area was rounded up and charged with setting the fire. He was sentenced to death. Conrad, watching the innocent man being led to his execution, was seized with compunction and honestly declared that he alone was the culprit. The man was freed but Conrad and his beloved wife lost almost all their possessions, her dowry and their house (to make restitution). This enforced penance had the salutary effect of turning their minds to God; and, undistracted, they discerned the radical call to poverty -- his wife to the Poor Clares and Conrad to the Third Order Franciscans.
Nowadays the Third Orders live at home with secular employment and follow their own pursuits pretty much, but back then they lived separate from the world (with a full habit), in a hermitage (in this case). Conrad was sought out as a wise man (or perhaps as a curiosity) and so he took off from Italy (where Piacenza is) to the remote fastnesses of Sicily. Even there he could not escape visitors -- many came for his advice and prayers. When a famine was suddenly relieved after his fervent prayers, it seemed as if he were never alone! But he resigned himself to it as an act of charity. He still lived in utter poverty, but he was surrounded by grace. When the Bishop suddenly descended on him -- with all his retinue -- he was unprepared; but when the Bishop jokingly asked him what he had to offer the visitors, Conrad went in to his little hovel and returned with delicious loaves of freshly-baked bread! A decidedly homely miracle, one that warms the Anonymous Catholic Housewife's heart (and which probably any housewife can appreciate).
Conrad returned the favor and decided to drop in on the Bishop unexpectedly; when he did so, he was surrounded by a mass of fluttering birds. They stayed outside during the visit and then escorted our saint back to his home.
And when he died (of natural causes), he lay prostrate on the ground in front of a crucifix, not unlike his spiritual leader, Francis. St. Conrad, pray for us.
Nowadays the Third Orders live at home with secular employment and follow their own pursuits pretty much, but back then they lived separate from the world (with a full habit), in a hermitage (in this case). Conrad was sought out as a wise man (or perhaps as a curiosity) and so he took off from Italy (where Piacenza is) to the remote fastnesses of Sicily. Even there he could not escape visitors -- many came for his advice and prayers. When a famine was suddenly relieved after his fervent prayers, it seemed as if he were never alone! But he resigned himself to it as an act of charity. He still lived in utter poverty, but he was surrounded by grace. When the Bishop suddenly descended on him -- with all his retinue -- he was unprepared; but when the Bishop jokingly asked him what he had to offer the visitors, Conrad went in to his little hovel and returned with delicious loaves of freshly-baked bread! A decidedly homely miracle, one that warms the Anonymous Catholic Housewife's heart (and which probably any housewife can appreciate).
Conrad returned the favor and decided to drop in on the Bishop unexpectedly; when he did so, he was surrounded by a mass of fluttering birds. They stayed outside during the visit and then escorted our saint back to his home.
And when he died (of natural causes), he lay prostrate on the ground in front of a crucifix, not unlike his spiritual leader, Francis. St. Conrad, pray for us.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Today February 18
Today is the feast of St. Simeon of Jerusalem, brother of the Lord (which we as Catholics know means "kinsman of the Lord," as Aramaic had no separate word for brother, or cousin, or [more distant] male relative); died 107 AD. This man was the son of Cleophas, St. Joseph's brother, making him, as the terminology goes, a "cousin german" of Our Lord. He was named second bishop of Jerusalem after the murder of St. James the Lesser, his brother. He served wisely and well -- and providentially removed all or most of the Christians from Jerusalem just prior to Vespasian's destruction of the Temple (70 AD), and then again just before Hadrian's complete razing of it. He had led them to safety in the city of Pella, beyond the Jordan. Here (and back in Jerusalem, later) miracles abounded and the Church flourished.
Simeon was not free of suffering; he was denounced as a descendant of David AND a Christian -- which punishment was death. And though he was by this time well over a hundred years old, he endured torture and then death by crucifixion with such courage that even his executioner, Atticus, was impressed. Brave St. Simeon, pray for us.
Simeon was not free of suffering; he was denounced as a descendant of David AND a Christian -- which punishment was death. And though he was by this time well over a hundred years old, he endured torture and then death by crucifixion with such courage that even his executioner, Atticus, was impressed. Brave St. Simeon, pray for us.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Today February 17
Today is the (new) feast of the Seven Founders of the Servite Order (13th century). These seven guys were "preoccupied with God" despite the troubling times they all lived in -- Florence was in the midst of a civil war and rampant with a particularly evil heresy (that of the Cathari, aka Albigensians) that held the body (and all matter) was created by Evil and all spirit by Goodness (God). This belief led them to abjure marriage, sex and even physical life itself (in some cases, going as far as suicide). Anyway, these seven guys, from all walks of life, joined in prayer and resolved to remove themselves from the world. One problem, though: two of the seven were currently married and two were widowers with dependent children. I think in this day and age, they would have come to the conclusion "That ship has sailed" and decided to remain lay. (Their wives could have said, "What part of 'Til death do us part' don't you understand?"). But they thought outside of the box in those days, and perhaps the prejudice in favor of the abstinent life helped, because, according to Butler's Lives, "It was necessary to make suitable provision for their dependents; but that was arranged, with the approval of the bishop, and they withdrew from the world." They really and truly felt they had a call, and I think they did -- future events seem to bear that out -- but how devastating to the wives left behind. Children, too, but children expect to make their way in the world and not to grow old side by side with their dads. A consolation for the ladies must have been somewhat akin to that of those whose husbands reveal to them that they are homosexuals -- "Well, at least it wasn't because I wasn't doing my part! I can't compete with that. He isn't leaving me for another woman!" Small consolation, eh?
But these seven delivered themselves over to a life of prayer and penance so well, or perhaps so curiously, that they began to be overwhelmed with visitors there in Florence. They took off to the wilds of Monte Senario and there lived like animals, according to Bishop Ardingo who visited them and remonstrated with them. They listened obediently to him and asked him what advice HE would give them. He said it called for praying, which they did, and a startlingly clear vision came to them all: Mary, holding a black habit, and an angel, holding a scroll with the words "Servants of Mary." They all returned to Florence, took the habit and the name and even got ordained, all but one: Brother Alexis. They were still pretty austere, but nothing like they had been on the mountain. Two became missionaries; Bonfilius died a "beautiful death in the midst of his brothers on New Year's night 1261"; another, Buonagiunta, died in chapel when the Passion narrative of St. John was read. "It is finished" -- and it was. And Alexis, the humble lay brother, outlived them all -- the only one who lived to see their order get papal approval. They'd tried for sixty years, but time after time they were set aside or ignored. But they never gave up, they never compromised, they never joined another order (which would have been allowed), and finally they were recognized. Seven Servites, pray for us.
But these seven delivered themselves over to a life of prayer and penance so well, or perhaps so curiously, that they began to be overwhelmed with visitors there in Florence. They took off to the wilds of Monte Senario and there lived like animals, according to Bishop Ardingo who visited them and remonstrated with them. They listened obediently to him and asked him what advice HE would give them. He said it called for praying, which they did, and a startlingly clear vision came to them all: Mary, holding a black habit, and an angel, holding a scroll with the words "Servants of Mary." They all returned to Florence, took the habit and the name and even got ordained, all but one: Brother Alexis. They were still pretty austere, but nothing like they had been on the mountain. Two became missionaries; Bonfilius died a "beautiful death in the midst of his brothers on New Year's night 1261"; another, Buonagiunta, died in chapel when the Passion narrative of St. John was read. "It is finished" -- and it was. And Alexis, the humble lay brother, outlived them all -- the only one who lived to see their order get papal approval. They'd tried for sixty years, but time after time they were set aside or ignored. But they never gave up, they never compromised, they never joined another order (which would have been allowed), and finally they were recognized. Seven Servites, pray for us.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Today February 16
Today is the feast of St. Gilbert of Sempringham (1083 - 1189). He was discriminated against because he was not a "jock" -- those were the days of competitive chivalry, and Gilbert had neither the skill nor the inclination for jousting and (other) "manly" sports. So he was considered a weakling. But he outlived them all, surviving to just over 100 years.
He also bucked the trend by founding a religious order of women first (and originally women only, but he changed his mind and later established a male order as well). The Gilbertines, as they were called, were always primarily a women's order -- and a hard-working one at that: starting from nothing, they built 13 houses and enrolled 1500 nuns!
And he bucked the trend by supporting St. Thomas of Canterbury during his quarrel with the King (when most of the clergy were siding with the King). He did so even though he risked imprisonment and the formal suppression of his order.
His order was wonderful but died in the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII many years later. His relics survived, since they had previously been taken to France, where they repose in Toulouse, where St. Thomas Aquinas is. I think they both are probably pleased: Gilbert was a very saintly, simple and humble man, though strong and wise, and the Great St. Thomas recognized and appreciated holiness with the awesome clarity of his mind and soul. St. Gilbert, pray for us.
He also bucked the trend by founding a religious order of women first (and originally women only, but he changed his mind and later established a male order as well). The Gilbertines, as they were called, were always primarily a women's order -- and a hard-working one at that: starting from nothing, they built 13 houses and enrolled 1500 nuns!
And he bucked the trend by supporting St. Thomas of Canterbury during his quarrel with the King (when most of the clergy were siding with the King). He did so even though he risked imprisonment and the formal suppression of his order.
His order was wonderful but died in the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII many years later. His relics survived, since they had previously been taken to France, where they repose in Toulouse, where St. Thomas Aquinas is. I think they both are probably pleased: Gilbert was a very saintly, simple and humble man, though strong and wise, and the Great St. Thomas recognized and appreciated holiness with the awesome clarity of his mind and soul. St. Gilbert, pray for us.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Today February 15
Today is the feast of Saint Claude de Colombiere, SJ (1641 - 1682). He was an interesting man. Of moderate means, his family sent him to a particularly fine Jesuit college, where he studied philosophy and excelled at it. He was, by the admission of his contemporaries, idealistic, which meant he'd have a difficult row to hoe -- and so he did, being plunged into two very different but very hostile situations. The first was in his native France, where the rigid and puritanical Jansenism held sway. (The other was later, in England, where he was preacher to the Duchess of York -- afterward queen when James II reigned -- during the time of Charles II, when Catholics were bitterly resented and discriminated against.) Claude believed that obedience was the antidote to Jansenism and he practiced it as completely as he could. He knew this heresy needed sweetness -- one of his famous homilies, that on the occasion of the canonization of St. Francis de Sales, was entitled "Out of strength has come sweetness" (Judges 14:14) -- and he both preached and practiced it.
One of the great and unusual aspects of his life was his platonic friendship with a woman, St. Margaret Mary Alacoque. It was completely serendipitous -- he was made head of the (Jesuit) house at Paray-le-Monial despite his great youth and in charge of only 4 or 5 priests despite his great gifts. The fact that he was there was revealed in hindsight to be an answer to prayer; when St. Margaret Mary, who'd prayed so long for someone to understand her, first heard him preach, she heard a voice say, "He it is I send you." And so it was. During confession, he actually told her what she was thinking and encouraged her to open her heart to him. She did, of course (though she was at first quite shy and reluctant to do so), and the rest, as they say, is history. The two agreed completely and bonded together to make devotion to the Sacred Heart widespread. It was, in their opinion, the perfect antidote to Jansenism.
He was sent, as noted, to London during a very dangerous time. He preached fearlessly and converted many Protestants. For this he was arrested, convicted and thrown into prison. He was implicated in the totally bogus "Popish plot" as schemed up by the infamous Titus Oates and would have been killed but Louis XIV, the Sun King himself, got him merely deported back to France. He was broken by his imprisonment and remained sick and weak the entire rest of his life. He was being sent down to Lyons (by way of Paray) in the hopes that the better climate might ease his sufferings, but on a last directive from his plucky female friend, he remained in Paray, where he peacefully died. St. Claude de Colombiere, pray for us.
One of the great and unusual aspects of his life was his platonic friendship with a woman, St. Margaret Mary Alacoque. It was completely serendipitous -- he was made head of the (Jesuit) house at Paray-le-Monial despite his great youth and in charge of only 4 or 5 priests despite his great gifts. The fact that he was there was revealed in hindsight to be an answer to prayer; when St. Margaret Mary, who'd prayed so long for someone to understand her, first heard him preach, she heard a voice say, "He it is I send you." And so it was. During confession, he actually told her what she was thinking and encouraged her to open her heart to him. She did, of course (though she was at first quite shy and reluctant to do so), and the rest, as they say, is history. The two agreed completely and bonded together to make devotion to the Sacred Heart widespread. It was, in their opinion, the perfect antidote to Jansenism.
He was sent, as noted, to London during a very dangerous time. He preached fearlessly and converted many Protestants. For this he was arrested, convicted and thrown into prison. He was implicated in the totally bogus "Popish plot" as schemed up by the infamous Titus Oates and would have been killed but Louis XIV, the Sun King himself, got him merely deported back to France. He was broken by his imprisonment and remained sick and weak the entire rest of his life. He was being sent down to Lyons (by way of Paray) in the hopes that the better climate might ease his sufferings, but on a last directive from his plucky female friend, he remained in Paray, where he peacefully died. St. Claude de Colombiere, pray for us.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Today February 14
Today is the lovely and traditional feast of St. Valentine, d. c. 280. You might hear a lot of complicated stuff about this day: there were not one, not two, but THREE St. Valentines celebrated on this day, all of whose stories get hopelessly confused; Valentine was a priest who secretly married soldiers to their fiancees, against imperial orders -- thus his patronage of lovers; this is the day birds were thought to choose a mate, etc., etc. I suppose all of that is true, but in the oldest sources there's nothing even remotely linking Valentine with sweethearts (even avian ones) and no confusion about who he was. He was a priest, tried by Claudius for the crime of idolatry and refusal to adore the imperial gods. In fact, his faith was blatantly called "superstition." No doubt some of us in today's society can relate.
Fearless Valentine retorted, "If you but knew the grace of God, you would not say such things!" He averred that the emperor and the prosecutors would turn from the gods which he called "idols" and to worship of the one, true God -- if they but knew the grace of God. They were offended that he was impugning the holiness of the Roman gods. And he was! All he had to say about them is that they acted like wretched human beings and that if they existed at all, they would be full of all uncleanness (hard to argue with, if you hear their stories). The emperor thundered, "If Christ is true God, why do you not tell me the truth?" Valentine: "Truly Christ alone is God! If you believe him, you will be saved!" And Claudius was actually wavering, but the prefect and those around him panicked and said, "The emperor is being led astray! How shall we give up what we have believed from infancy?" And that did it; the emperor would hear no more from Valentine cast him into prison and ordered him beheaded.
In a sweet sideline (of great antiquity), Valentine cured his jailer's daughter of blindness -- with the result that all the family was converted to the faith, saying, "Lord Jesus Christ, true light, you have this day enlightened this house!"
Perhaps a nice analogy could be made with the "light of Christ" and the "light of love" -- thus the habit of choosing sweethearts during this spring saint's feast, but I think it's a stretch. Anyway, happy St. Valentine's Day everybody!
Fearless Valentine retorted, "If you but knew the grace of God, you would not say such things!" He averred that the emperor and the prosecutors would turn from the gods which he called "idols" and to worship of the one, true God -- if they but knew the grace of God. They were offended that he was impugning the holiness of the Roman gods. And he was! All he had to say about them is that they acted like wretched human beings and that if they existed at all, they would be full of all uncleanness (hard to argue with, if you hear their stories). The emperor thundered, "If Christ is true God, why do you not tell me the truth?" Valentine: "Truly Christ alone is God! If you believe him, you will be saved!" And Claudius was actually wavering, but the prefect and those around him panicked and said, "The emperor is being led astray! How shall we give up what we have believed from infancy?" And that did it; the emperor would hear no more from Valentine cast him into prison and ordered him beheaded.
In a sweet sideline (of great antiquity), Valentine cured his jailer's daughter of blindness -- with the result that all the family was converted to the faith, saying, "Lord Jesus Christ, true light, you have this day enlightened this house!"
Perhaps a nice analogy could be made with the "light of Christ" and the "light of love" -- thus the habit of choosing sweethearts during this spring saint's feast, but I think it's a stretch. Anyway, happy St. Valentine's Day everybody!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Today February 13
Today is the feast of the interesting St. Catherine dei Ricci (1522 - 1590), virgin, Dominican, stigmatist. I say she's interesting because she illustrates a truth about the stigmata -- and other mystical manifestations -- in that different people saw it in different ways. Not that it was psychosomatic or hallucinatory, but that there's an element of faith in the viewer as well as in this stigmatic (that is not always seen in other exemplars). And yet the sincerity, holiness and wisdom of the great Catherine are not in dispute. She was sought after even by high clergy, including three cardinals, all of whom later became popes -- for her outspoken wisdom, though she was not a particularly literary or learned woman. But coming back to her manifestations: some saw the full bloody stigmata on her, others saw not wounds but beautiful points of light, still others saw healed wounds, and some saw nothing at all.
Catherine was distinguished for her very "marital" imagery of the soul's union with God -- to the point of a sacred and chaste proposal of Our Lord complete with a wedding ring He supposedly placed on her left hand. Here again, some saw an actual gold ring with a diamond (these were invariably the most mature old nuns), some saw a real ring seemingly embedded under the flesh, many saw a reddening in the form of a ring on that finger, some saw nothing at all (notably the governor of Florence, who asked to see it). For her own part, Catherine always saw the gold ring, she always felt the stigmata, and she never doubted her visions. Despite the fame the visions brought her -- and maybe because of it -- she asked her nuns (she was prioress) to pray that she might be delivered of them, and so she was, in 1554. She always saw the ring, though, and always thought of herself (and the other nuns) as veritable "brides of Christ." That's not so unusual -- even Mother Teresa thought so of herself, and once said something like, "I am married to Jesus -- and sometimes it's difficult being married to Him!" I can imagine. St. Catherine dei Ricci, pray for us.
Catherine was distinguished for her very "marital" imagery of the soul's union with God -- to the point of a sacred and chaste proposal of Our Lord complete with a wedding ring He supposedly placed on her left hand. Here again, some saw an actual gold ring with a diamond (these were invariably the most mature old nuns), some saw a real ring seemingly embedded under the flesh, many saw a reddening in the form of a ring on that finger, some saw nothing at all (notably the governor of Florence, who asked to see it). For her own part, Catherine always saw the gold ring, she always felt the stigmata, and she never doubted her visions. Despite the fame the visions brought her -- and maybe because of it -- she asked her nuns (she was prioress) to pray that she might be delivered of them, and so she was, in 1554. She always saw the ring, though, and always thought of herself (and the other nuns) as veritable "brides of Christ." That's not so unusual -- even Mother Teresa thought so of herself, and once said something like, "I am married to Jesus -- and sometimes it's difficult being married to Him!" I can imagine. St. Catherine dei Ricci, pray for us.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Today February 12
Today is the feast of St. Benedict of Aniane (750 - 821), a nobleman who had a secular career before he became a Benedictine monk. He started out as a cupbearer for King Pepin and then became a soldier for Charlemagne. He was bright -- he was quick -- he was rash; he imposed upon himself great fastings and sleep deprivation until he became a more moderate soul. Under Benedictine spirituality, he was required to take it more easy on himself. He obeyed and it was to his benefit. He became cellarmaster -- an ironic twist, because he used to be a teetotaler -- and took up the task of hospitality for the brothers and for the guests. He was elected abbot in 779. He chose not to serve, as he could see that the monks and he would not see eye to eye, and so he retired to the South of France where he and a few diehards built the monastery (first the hut) of Aniane.
Many tried -- and failed -- to join him in his pioneering effort; Benedict was so discouraged by this he half resolved to go back to his first (lax) monastery. But one of his friends (a man named Atilio) told him to continue, in order to be "a lamp" for others and to not give in to the "ancient enemy." So he weathered the lean times and soon even began to expand. He taught his monks to forgive -- even the robbers who stole what little they had -- and his words were backed up by his power to cure and cast out demons in Jesus' name. And though he preferred the quiet life of the monastery, when a heresy was being repeated (namely, that Jesus Christ was the son of God by adoption and not by conception by the Holy Spirit), he went far and wide teaching the truth -- both to the laity and to the clergy. And yet he was not hated -- though he reproved people -- maybe because he'd always try to avoid causing a sense of embarrassment in them. He died after a long illness. His last words (made to his successor at the abbey) were: "Do everything, however, with charity and discretion." Amen. St. Benedict of Aniane, pray for us.
Many tried -- and failed -- to join him in his pioneering effort; Benedict was so discouraged by this he half resolved to go back to his first (lax) monastery. But one of his friends (a man named Atilio) told him to continue, in order to be "a lamp" for others and to not give in to the "ancient enemy." So he weathered the lean times and soon even began to expand. He taught his monks to forgive -- even the robbers who stole what little they had -- and his words were backed up by his power to cure and cast out demons in Jesus' name. And though he preferred the quiet life of the monastery, when a heresy was being repeated (namely, that Jesus Christ was the son of God by adoption and not by conception by the Holy Spirit), he went far and wide teaching the truth -- both to the laity and to the clergy. And yet he was not hated -- though he reproved people -- maybe because he'd always try to avoid causing a sense of embarrassment in them. He died after a long illness. His last words (made to his successor at the abbey) were: "Do everything, however, with charity and discretion." Amen. St. Benedict of Aniane, pray for us.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Today February 11
Today is the (old) feast of St. Bernadette (1844 - 1879), and also the 150th anniversary of the first apparition of Our Lady to her in 1858. This poor (and asthmatic) little 14-year-old was by her very nature very gentle and patient -- and endowed with a sense of humor. When, after the storm of glory had subsided around her and she was just a little Sister in the Notre Dame convent and she found herself suffering from asthma and other ailments, she told a visitor, "I am getting on with my job." The visitor asked her, "What job?" to which Bernadette responded, "Being ill." She remembered that God sees and knows all; He was holding her in the palm of His hand. She responded spontaneously with prayer and patient endurance, even with a smile.
Poor Bernadette must have felt like Cassandra: not a soul, not even her parish priest, any of the nuns, even her own mom and dad -- believed her. She wasn't even saying it was Mary -- just a pretty girl dressed in white who invited her to pray with her. Bernadette went into a kind of trance each time the lady with the beautiful face appeared -- each day for two more days, then on the 18th, then each day for two weeks (except for the 22nd when there was a police force out on patrol and Bernadette had been warned not to go to the grotto [though she did anyway]), including the 25th when she dug in the dirt and a mysterious spring came forth; and then a month later on March 25th when in the local patois the Lady finally revealed her name "I am the Immaculate Conception," and on April 7th, (the last official apparition) and finally on July 16th. She never saw the Lady again -- and, interestingly, had been told NOT to write anything down. Our Lady, if Our Lady it was, was not given to long and banal discourse. She had a few simple things to say: she invited Bernadette to pray, she encouraged the crowd to penitence, she asked that a chapel be built there, she directed Bernadette to dig for the curative stream, and she revealed her name in a simple and illustrative way. That's it. Not to put too fine a point on it, there were no long and interminable "messages" that went on and on (like some other "apparitions" I could name). Not to disparage any other "sightings" of Our Lady, but they do seem to stand in contrast to the clear and succinct messages in this (approved) apparition. My mom thinks it very significant that the Lady told Bernadette "I do not promise to make you happy in this life, but in the next." So true.
It's interesting, too, that immediately after Bernadette's last apparitions (which were always marked by peace -- even silence --- among the crowd, numbering at the last about 1700), many false visionaries appeared. They were young and old, of characters good, bad and indifferent. The parents of Lourdes entertained any suggestions on the part of even their youngest children that they were conduits of divine inspirations. A girl named Marie "saw" the Virgin Mary from April to December and many believed in her. Many of these false visionaries went into convulsions and other unusual behaviors. And the experiences were always at odds with what the simple and straightforward Bernadette saw. She never profited from her visions (not even transportation costs to other cities and countries! -- where perhaps she might conjure the vision at the exact time, corrected for time zones and daylight savings, of course!) and even compared herself to a broom, which, after it does its job, is put back behind the door. Yes, it is an instrument, but that still has dignity -- considering the Hand that wielded it -- and we can be grateful that it was among us. Thank you, dear little (incorrupt) Bernadette. Pray for us.
Poor Bernadette must have felt like Cassandra: not a soul, not even her parish priest, any of the nuns, even her own mom and dad -- believed her. She wasn't even saying it was Mary -- just a pretty girl dressed in white who invited her to pray with her. Bernadette went into a kind of trance each time the lady with the beautiful face appeared -- each day for two more days, then on the 18th, then each day for two weeks (except for the 22nd when there was a police force out on patrol and Bernadette had been warned not to go to the grotto [though she did anyway]), including the 25th when she dug in the dirt and a mysterious spring came forth; and then a month later on March 25th when in the local patois the Lady finally revealed her name "I am the Immaculate Conception," and on April 7th, (the last official apparition) and finally on July 16th. She never saw the Lady again -- and, interestingly, had been told NOT to write anything down. Our Lady, if Our Lady it was, was not given to long and banal discourse. She had a few simple things to say: she invited Bernadette to pray, she encouraged the crowd to penitence, she asked that a chapel be built there, she directed Bernadette to dig for the curative stream, and she revealed her name in a simple and illustrative way. That's it. Not to put too fine a point on it, there were no long and interminable "messages" that went on and on (like some other "apparitions" I could name). Not to disparage any other "sightings" of Our Lady, but they do seem to stand in contrast to the clear and succinct messages in this (approved) apparition. My mom thinks it very significant that the Lady told Bernadette "I do not promise to make you happy in this life, but in the next." So true.
It's interesting, too, that immediately after Bernadette's last apparitions (which were always marked by peace -- even silence --- among the crowd, numbering at the last about 1700), many false visionaries appeared. They were young and old, of characters good, bad and indifferent. The parents of Lourdes entertained any suggestions on the part of even their youngest children that they were conduits of divine inspirations. A girl named Marie "saw" the Virgin Mary from April to December and many believed in her. Many of these false visionaries went into convulsions and other unusual behaviors. And the experiences were always at odds with what the simple and straightforward Bernadette saw. She never profited from her visions (not even transportation costs to other cities and countries! -- where perhaps she might conjure the vision at the exact time, corrected for time zones and daylight savings, of course!) and even compared herself to a broom, which, after it does its job, is put back behind the door. Yes, it is an instrument, but that still has dignity -- considering the Hand that wielded it -- and we can be grateful that it was among us. Thank you, dear little (incorrupt) Bernadette. Pray for us.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Today February 10
Today is the feast of St. Scholastica (480 - 543), virgin, of whom we know only through her (twin) brother Benedict. She matured early and vowed her life to God. When Benedict left home and (finally) settled in Monte Cassino, she followed him, but lived about 5 miles south in a little place known as Plombariola. There she was what would be pretty much the equivalent of abbess over her community, she herself being under the spiritual direction of her brother.
Once a year she'd travel almost to Monte Cassino, not going in, as women were not allowed. Instead, she'd meet her brother in a house just off the grounds of the monastery. In one of these visits, they settled in to talk after supper and Scholastica entreated her brother to spend the night, that they might have more time for discussion. He was reluctant to spend the night with a woman, even if it were just his sister, and he refused. She sighed heavily and put her head in her hands. A few minutes later there came great thunder and lightning. Benedict, amused, said, "God forgive you, sister; what have you done?" She answered, "I asked a favor of you and you refused it. I asked it of God, and He has granted it." Whereupon he was obliged to, in fact, stay the night.
A short time later, after they had parted, Benedict was graced with the vision to see what appeared to be a dove ascending into heaven at the exact moment his sister died. Moved, he sent two of his monks to fetch her body and bury it in his own tomb so that the two who had been so close in life might remain so in death. And in the 7th century both bodies were removed to LeMans in France. St. Scholastica, pray for us.
Once a year she'd travel almost to Monte Cassino, not going in, as women were not allowed. Instead, she'd meet her brother in a house just off the grounds of the monastery. In one of these visits, they settled in to talk after supper and Scholastica entreated her brother to spend the night, that they might have more time for discussion. He was reluctant to spend the night with a woman, even if it were just his sister, and he refused. She sighed heavily and put her head in her hands. A few minutes later there came great thunder and lightning. Benedict, amused, said, "God forgive you, sister; what have you done?" She answered, "I asked a favor of you and you refused it. I asked it of God, and He has granted it." Whereupon he was obliged to, in fact, stay the night.
A short time later, after they had parted, Benedict was graced with the vision to see what appeared to be a dove ascending into heaven at the exact moment his sister died. Moved, he sent two of his monks to fetch her body and bury it in his own tomb so that the two who had been so close in life might remain so in death. And in the 7th century both bodies were removed to LeMans in France. St. Scholastica, pray for us.
Saturday, February 9, 2008
Today February 9
Today is the feast of Brother Miguel, FSC (1954 - 1910). He was a bright if frail boy. He couldn't walk due to a deformity of both feet. But at age 5 he had a vision of a lovely lady dressed in white and wearing a white veil, standing in his backyard among the rosebushes. She was beckoning to him, so to Miguel's aunt's shock, he stood up and walked outside for the first time in his life. He was healed. Who was the woman? No one else saw her. Did she really exist? Who knows? But the cure was sudden and permanent -- what we would call miraculous.
His guardian angel sure worked hard. A wild bull got loose and gored him when he was 8 years old -- but he emerged unhurt.
He loved school; he felt at home there; he often stayed after school to help the Christian Brothers. He came to realize he wanted to be a religious brother; his family was appalled. They had much "higher" aspirations for their son, much more worldly ones. But his persistence (even after he obediently went away to a boys' school in another town in his native Ecuador) and his many prayers -- as well as concern for his health -- finally swayed his parents and they allowed him to return to the Christian Brothers. He took the habit at age 14.
He was quite the writer -- he wrote his first book at age 17. It was published and several of his works (in the fields of grammar and philology) are still in print and used as textbooks. He was a brilliant scholar, but always searched for new and better ways to express himself so that he might be better understood. He was a great and beloved teacher as well. But the source of his sanctity was not these natural gifts but his total dedication to God. All for God, he said, "Nothing can bring greater happiness than doing God's will for the love of God." He was always available for whoever needed to talk; you could say he had the gift of availability. He was a great and constant friend -- and the Brothers were lucky to have him! He made it a habit to offer up his intentions as soon as they were suggested to him and not necessarily listing each and every one by name. He offered them up, knowing God knew his every petition.
He was destined to travel to Europe -- once to Rome for the beatification of the founder, John Baptist de la Salle -- and once to France, Belgium, and Spain to do translation work. He died quietly and peacefully in Spain, and even though his work was not yet completed, he was serene. "If the work I am doing is useful for God, He will send someone else to finish it." Asked if he was unhappy to die so far from his beloved Ecuador, he said, "No, I am happy to die in Spain if it is God's wish." Those were his last words.
His body was found incorrupt in 1936 (during the Spanish Civil War). It was returned to his native land (mostly to protect it from anti-clerical raiders). He was beatified in 1977. Blessed Brother Miguel, pray for us.
His guardian angel sure worked hard. A wild bull got loose and gored him when he was 8 years old -- but he emerged unhurt.
He loved school; he felt at home there; he often stayed after school to help the Christian Brothers. He came to realize he wanted to be a religious brother; his family was appalled. They had much "higher" aspirations for their son, much more worldly ones. But his persistence (even after he obediently went away to a boys' school in another town in his native Ecuador) and his many prayers -- as well as concern for his health -- finally swayed his parents and they allowed him to return to the Christian Brothers. He took the habit at age 14.
He was quite the writer -- he wrote his first book at age 17. It was published and several of his works (in the fields of grammar and philology) are still in print and used as textbooks. He was a brilliant scholar, but always searched for new and better ways to express himself so that he might be better understood. He was a great and beloved teacher as well. But the source of his sanctity was not these natural gifts but his total dedication to God. All for God, he said, "Nothing can bring greater happiness than doing God's will for the love of God." He was always available for whoever needed to talk; you could say he had the gift of availability. He was a great and constant friend -- and the Brothers were lucky to have him! He made it a habit to offer up his intentions as soon as they were suggested to him and not necessarily listing each and every one by name. He offered them up, knowing God knew his every petition.
He was destined to travel to Europe -- once to Rome for the beatification of the founder, John Baptist de la Salle -- and once to France, Belgium, and Spain to do translation work. He died quietly and peacefully in Spain, and even though his work was not yet completed, he was serene. "If the work I am doing is useful for God, He will send someone else to finish it." Asked if he was unhappy to die so far from his beloved Ecuador, he said, "No, I am happy to die in Spain if it is God's wish." Those were his last words.
His body was found incorrupt in 1936 (during the Spanish Civil War). It was returned to his native land (mostly to protect it from anti-clerical raiders). He was beatified in 1977. Blessed Brother Miguel, pray for us.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Today February 8
Today is the feast of St. Jerome Emiliani (1486 - 1537). He probably never anticipated being hailed a saint when he was younger, since he was too busy being a soldier and a nobleman in Venice. But, as soldiers often are, he was defeated and taken prisoner. While in prison, he had a deep conversion (he was already a Catholic, but an "irreligious and careless"one) -- a not uncommon occurrence -- and a miraculous release from there -- a definitely uncommon one! Supposedly the Virgin Mary herself helped him break out. I don't know. I do know he hung up his chains (the very ones that had shackled him) at the altar of the Virgin and turned his life over to God.
He studied for the priesthood after regaining his freedom, became ordained (in 1518) and opened orphanages (at his own expense), first in just a rented room in his hometown of Venice and then in actual buildings throughout Northern Italy and in the Catholic Swiss cantons. He loved his little boys and once when they were dying of thirst, he supposedly extracted water for them from a rock. Neat. On a less Old-Testament-style level, he was the first to teach his (spiritual) children their catechism in the form of questions and answers.
He was a humble and down-to-earth man; though born a noble, he'd grab a hoe or other farm implement and work right alongside the peasants in the fields, all the while talking to them about God. Apparently it worked; he made many conversions. He founded a small order, named the Clerks Regular of Somascha (named after the little town between Bergamo and Milan), to minister to the orphans. He is now their patron saint. He died on this day from an infectious disease he'd caught while tending the sick. St. Jerome Emiliani, pray for us.
He studied for the priesthood after regaining his freedom, became ordained (in 1518) and opened orphanages (at his own expense), first in just a rented room in his hometown of Venice and then in actual buildings throughout Northern Italy and in the Catholic Swiss cantons. He loved his little boys and once when they were dying of thirst, he supposedly extracted water for them from a rock. Neat. On a less Old-Testament-style level, he was the first to teach his (spiritual) children their catechism in the form of questions and answers.
He was a humble and down-to-earth man; though born a noble, he'd grab a hoe or other farm implement and work right alongside the peasants in the fields, all the while talking to them about God. Apparently it worked; he made many conversions. He founded a small order, named the Clerks Regular of Somascha (named after the little town between Bergamo and Milan), to minister to the orphans. He is now their patron saint. He died on this day from an infectious disease he'd caught while tending the sick. St. Jerome Emiliani, pray for us.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Today February 7
Today is the feast of one of the numerous saints named Moses; including the great patriarch; a priest in Rome; the Desert Father also known as Moses the Black, a former brigand and gangster who became a non-violent and gentle witness to Jesus; and today's saint (died c. 372). He was an Arab who was a holy hermit known and beloved by the wandering pagan Arabs (also known as Saracens) under their warrior-queen Mavia. The Christian Romans defeated them after a protracted guerrilla war and as part of the peace terms the Arabs agreed to be evangelized. They had one condition: that Moses be their bishop. Moses was roused out of his peaceful life into the difficult one of being the traveling bishop (naturally, as his parishioners were all nomads) of these formerly star-worshiping people. His teaching, preaching, baptizing and confirming must have done the trick, since all those Arabs became Christians! We tend to think of them as going directly from paganism to Islam (some did, of course) but it's certainly not true of the many. Dear St. Moses, please keep in your prayers the people of the Middle East, still embroiled in political turmoil.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Today February 6
Today is the feast of St. Paul Miki and Companions, 26 in all, died 1597. St. Paul Miki was a noble Japanese man, great preacher, and Jesuit priest. It is surprising -- or maybe not so surprising -- that such an isolated, repressed, but highly civilized country like Japan took so quickly to Christianity, so foreign a religion. But I think its purity, its mysticism and its truth appealed to the driven and logical Japanese. St. Francis Xavier planted Christianity on its shores and by 1597 there were over 200,000 Christians in Japan! In 1588, Emperor Kambakundono ordered all the missionaries out (most left, but some stayed behind, in disguise) and in 1596 Emperor Takosama had today's martyrs crucified on a hill in Nagasaki (at one time, the most Christian city in Japan). It is said he was reacting to the inappropriate boast of a Spanish captain that the Christian missionaries were there to soften up the people in advance of a combined Spanish and Portuguese invasion.
The martyrs were as follows: 3 Jesuits (including our hero) - all native Japanese, 6 Franciscans (Spaniards, Mexicans, 1 Indian), and 17 laymen - Japanese (plus 1 Korean). They included a soldier, a doctor, catechists, interpreters and even young altar boys. They had their left ears cut off, their cheeks either impaled or simply marked with blood; and chained, they were marched from town to town til they were fastened to their (stationary) crosses, buckled with iron collars, and then speared in unison. Their clothes and blood were collected by the faithful and venerated as relics. Much has been made of the tenacity of the faith of these Catholic Christians, who maintained their faith, priestless, for decades -- baptizing, marrying and teaching, including the reading of the Scriptures -- until the country was opened up again. It gives one hope. And the witness of these brave men (among many others as well) must have helped sustain them in their darkest days. St. Paul Miki, pray for us.
The martyrs were as follows: 3 Jesuits (including our hero) - all native Japanese, 6 Franciscans (Spaniards, Mexicans, 1 Indian), and 17 laymen - Japanese (plus 1 Korean). They included a soldier, a doctor, catechists, interpreters and even young altar boys. They had their left ears cut off, their cheeks either impaled or simply marked with blood; and chained, they were marched from town to town til they were fastened to their (stationary) crosses, buckled with iron collars, and then speared in unison. Their clothes and blood were collected by the faithful and venerated as relics. Much has been made of the tenacity of the faith of these Catholic Christians, who maintained their faith, priestless, for decades -- baptizing, marrying and teaching, including the reading of the Scriptures -- until the country was opened up again. It gives one hope. And the witness of these brave men (among many others as well) must have helped sustain them in their darkest days. St. Paul Miki, pray for us.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Today February 5
Today is the feast of St. Agatha, virgin (died c. 253 AD). Agatha was a highborn Sicilian, rich, beautiful and young. So perhaps it was no surprise that the consular official Quintianus desired her. There was a problem, though: he was greedy, lowborn, corrupt and a pagan. Although there is no indication that Agatha necessarily swore herself to consecrated virginity, she knew she didn't want HIM. And Quintianus, unable to persuade her with either sugared words or veiled threats, figured that if he couldn't have her, then everyone would! He sent her by force to work in a brothel under the madam appropriately named Aphrodisia. But Agatha prayed and wept and though she was sentenced there for 30 days, never prostituted herself. Aphrodisia found her quite obstinate: "It would be easier to split rocks or reduce iron to the softness of lead than to move that girl's mind from its intention."
Agatha was summoned again before the consul. She was questioned again: "What is your social standing?" Agatha: "I am freeborn and of illustrious lineage." Q: "Why does the way you live make you seem to be of servile status?" Agatha: "I am the slave of Christ." Q: "If you are of noble birth, why do you call yourself a slave?" Agatha: "Because to be a slave of Christ is proof of the highest nobility."
This answer angered Quintianus and he ordered her to be tormented: thrown in jail, stretched on a rack, and, in a particularly cruel gesture, her breast twisted for a long time and then cut off (thus her patronage of all breast disorders, especially in this day and age, breast cancer and mastectomy). Still she would not forswear Christ nor sacrifice to the gods nor be Quintianus' concubine (he was already married). She languished in prison after the torture and was denied food, water or medical care; but then an old man preceded by a boy carrying a lighted candle appeared in her cell. She was a little reluctant to have him treat her wounds as he offered, considering the delicate nature of them, but finally she relented when he said, "I am a Christian, so you need not be ashamed." He miraculously restored her breast and before leaving he said, "I am [Christ's] apostle and he sent me to you. Know that in his name you are healed." And based on those final words before he and the boy vanished, it is traditionally assumed that her visitor was St. Peter himself.
Four days later, she was taken again before Quintianus and was naturally asked how she was so surprisingly healed. "It was by Christ the Son of God!" she declared. "You dare to pronounce THAT NAME again?" thundered Quintianus, who ordered her stripped naked and rolled on broken pottery and live coals. This torment coincided with an earthquake and so the superstitious populace begged him to stop pestering the girl. He remanded her to prison, where, after praying "Lord Jesus Christ, you created me, preserved me from love of this world . . . now receive my spirit and command me to come to your mercy", she died, succumbing to her wounds. She is patroness of Syracuse and once protected the town from a deadly lava flow from the volcano there. St. Agatha, pray for us
Agatha was summoned again before the consul. She was questioned again: "What is your social standing?" Agatha: "I am freeborn and of illustrious lineage." Q: "Why does the way you live make you seem to be of servile status?" Agatha: "I am the slave of Christ." Q: "If you are of noble birth, why do you call yourself a slave?" Agatha: "Because to be a slave of Christ is proof of the highest nobility."
This answer angered Quintianus and he ordered her to be tormented: thrown in jail, stretched on a rack, and, in a particularly cruel gesture, her breast twisted for a long time and then cut off (thus her patronage of all breast disorders, especially in this day and age, breast cancer and mastectomy). Still she would not forswear Christ nor sacrifice to the gods nor be Quintianus' concubine (he was already married). She languished in prison after the torture and was denied food, water or medical care; but then an old man preceded by a boy carrying a lighted candle appeared in her cell. She was a little reluctant to have him treat her wounds as he offered, considering the delicate nature of them, but finally she relented when he said, "I am a Christian, so you need not be ashamed." He miraculously restored her breast and before leaving he said, "I am [Christ's] apostle and he sent me to you. Know that in his name you are healed." And based on those final words before he and the boy vanished, it is traditionally assumed that her visitor was St. Peter himself.
Four days later, she was taken again before Quintianus and was naturally asked how she was so surprisingly healed. "It was by Christ the Son of God!" she declared. "You dare to pronounce THAT NAME again?" thundered Quintianus, who ordered her stripped naked and rolled on broken pottery and live coals. This torment coincided with an earthquake and so the superstitious populace begged him to stop pestering the girl. He remanded her to prison, where, after praying "Lord Jesus Christ, you created me, preserved me from love of this world . . . now receive my spirit and command me to come to your mercy", she died, succumbing to her wounds. She is patroness of Syracuse and once protected the town from a deadly lava flow from the volcano there. St. Agatha, pray for us
Monday, February 4, 2008
Today February 4
Today is the feast of St. Joan of Valois, also
known as St. Joan of France, St. Jane of France, or
St. Jane of Valois (1464 - 1505). She could be the
president of the First Wives' Club. Born to be a
queen, she was ignored by her parents and rejected
(when it was safe to do so) by her husband. Both
Louis XI, her father, and Louis XII, her husband,
disliked her because she wasn't pretty: she was short
and humpbacked. But she had a sweet and religious
nature, and she was true. She loved her husband,
though he was nakedly ambitious; she even saved his
life when her brother, Charles VIII, threatened to
kill him for rebellion. When her husband finally
gained the throne, he threw her over for the
well-connected and beautiful Anne of Brittany. He
even obtained an annulment from Pope Alexander VI on
the grounds that he had been forced to marry her by
Louis XI (although he sure didn't LOOK like he was
being forced at the time!) And classy Joan, rather
than being resentful, rather than being hurt and
bitter, (though no one would have blamed her) didn't
fight it, but left her rightful place and retired to
the country, where she devoted herself to prayer and
charity. This act of meekness might have gone
unrecognized had not young women gravitated toward
her, whom she gathered into a group she called the
Annonciades in honor of the Annunciation, a
contemplative group, that naturally continued to honor
and work for the recognition of her sanctity. She was
finally canonized in 1950.
But I think St. Joan, who did so much for
her husband, has a sympathetic heart for all those
first wives who put their husbands through medical
school only to have them divorce them in favor of a
pretty young nurse (or a female doctor). She also is
an example for them -- that revenge is not the only
way. She converted her sorrow into a work that
brought much joy ( both in France and later in
England). She must have been hurt, but she forgave
him. I think she believed the ultimate truth of the
statement: "Unforgiveness is drinking poison hoping
the other person dies." Amen. St. Joan of Valois,
pray for us.
known as St. Joan of France, St. Jane of France, or
St. Jane of Valois (1464 - 1505). She could be the
president of the First Wives' Club. Born to be a
queen, she was ignored by her parents and rejected
(when it was safe to do so) by her husband. Both
Louis XI, her father, and Louis XII, her husband,
disliked her because she wasn't pretty: she was short
and humpbacked. But she had a sweet and religious
nature, and she was true. She loved her husband,
though he was nakedly ambitious; she even saved his
life when her brother, Charles VIII, threatened to
kill him for rebellion. When her husband finally
gained the throne, he threw her over for the
well-connected and beautiful Anne of Brittany. He
even obtained an annulment from Pope Alexander VI on
the grounds that he had been forced to marry her by
Louis XI (although he sure didn't LOOK like he was
being forced at the time!) And classy Joan, rather
than being resentful, rather than being hurt and
bitter, (though no one would have blamed her) didn't
fight it, but left her rightful place and retired to
the country, where she devoted herself to prayer and
charity. This act of meekness might have gone
unrecognized had not young women gravitated toward
her, whom she gathered into a group she called the
Annonciades in honor of the Annunciation, a
contemplative group, that naturally continued to honor
and work for the recognition of her sanctity. She was
finally canonized in 1950.
But I think St. Joan, who did so much for
her husband, has a sympathetic heart for all those
first wives who put their husbands through medical
school only to have them divorce them in favor of a
pretty young nurse (or a female doctor). She also is
an example for them -- that revenge is not the only
way. She converted her sorrow into a work that
brought much joy ( both in France and later in
England). She must have been hurt, but she forgave
him. I think she believed the ultimate truth of the
statement: "Unforgiveness is drinking poison hoping
the other person dies." Amen. St. Joan of Valois,
pray for us.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Today February 2
Today is the feast of the Presentation of Our Lord, 40 days after Christmas, when Our Lady and St. Joseph "bought back" their son for the price of two pigeons and Our Lady could enter the sanctuary again. It wasn't strictly necessary to go to the Temple to "present" their first born son, but anybody who lived as close to Jerusalem as these two did would naturally want to do so -- and they did. They must have been surprised at Anna's and Simeon's notice of the child. But they probably weren't surprised at the prophecy: "This child is destined to bring about the fall of many and the rise of many in Israel; to be a sign which men will refuse to acknowledge . . . as for thy own soul, it shall have a sword to pierce it." But Mary already knew -- and would have talked over with Joseph -- the words of Daniel: "Christ -- the Anointed One -- will be done to death." And she'd been told her son would be "great, and men will know him for the Son of the Most High. The Lord God will give him the throne of his father David" (Luke 1:35) and both kings and high priests were the "anointed ones." "The piercing of her own soul might have begun when, after Gabriel's visit, she read that prophecy." - Frank Sheed.
But most surprised of all would the parents have been to hear the words, "This is the light which shall give revelation to the Gentiles, this is the glory of thy people Israel." Because seldom in the Scriptures are the Gentiles mentioned at all (in a positive light) and NEVER before the Jews. These words of blessed Simeon turned their whole worldview on its head . . . but that was only the beginning. The Child Himself would turn the whole world on its head! And thank God, for the pagans who lived in great darkness were able to (also) become the people of God. Happy Presentation Day, everybody.
But most surprised of all would the parents have been to hear the words, "This is the light which shall give revelation to the Gentiles, this is the glory of thy people Israel." Because seldom in the Scriptures are the Gentiles mentioned at all (in a positive light) and NEVER before the Jews. These words of blessed Simeon turned their whole worldview on its head . . . but that was only the beginning. The Child Himself would turn the whole world on its head! And thank God, for the pagans who lived in great darkness were able to (also) become the people of God. Happy Presentation Day, everybody.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Today February 1
Today is the feast of Father Louis Variara, SDB (1875 - 1923). What is unusual about him is that he only founded a WOMEN'S order (and that only more or less by accident) all the while remaining in his own order -- the Salesians -- in which he was very happy. Not an orphan, but in Don Bosco's orphanage nonetheless, he was moved to be a priest and a missionary by the example of the great saint, even though Don Bosco was quite old at the time. He didn't even SAY anything to Louis -- he just looked at him, but it was enough. Louis entered the novitiate in Italy and, moved by an appeal from a Salesian in Colombia, offered himself as a missionary at a leper colony in Agua de Dios there. After a long, hard journey by boat, train and finally mule, he began work at the colony. He started an orphanage for boys (who, for the most part, had living parents, who had been forcibly separated from them) and taught them to play musical instruments. He didn't hesitate to put his lips on mouthpieces that only seconds before were in the mouths of the little leper boys. They spent many long hours blowing away with their last strength into the instruments. But slowly, gradually, the nature of the place changed: it became lighter, brighter, and more cheerful.
One dark spot was the frustration of some of the girls who, because of their illness, were not allowed to serve God as sisters. Father Louis came up with the seemingly no-brainer of starting a new order just for them. You wouldn't believe the static he drew, even from priests and prelates. But eventually he got his permission for the establishment of the Daughters of the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary, who would work among the lepers themselves. Father Louis was called away from the community to Venezuela and the sisters missed him terribly, but he was obedient and he went. He cheered them up by saying, "What, therefore, could you have to complain about if sickness does not separate you from God, but rather brings you closer to Him? What does the rest matter?" He developed kidney and urinary disease in the harsh conditions in Venezuela and died soon after. But his Daughters carried on and grew in numbers and now include both lepers and non-lepers in various countries among the poorest of the poor. Father Louis Variara, pray for us.
One dark spot was the frustration of some of the girls who, because of their illness, were not allowed to serve God as sisters. Father Louis came up with the seemingly no-brainer of starting a new order just for them. You wouldn't believe the static he drew, even from priests and prelates. But eventually he got his permission for the establishment of the Daughters of the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary, who would work among the lepers themselves. Father Louis was called away from the community to Venezuela and the sisters missed him terribly, but he was obedient and he went. He cheered them up by saying, "What, therefore, could you have to complain about if sickness does not separate you from God, but rather brings you closer to Him? What does the rest matter?" He developed kidney and urinary disease in the harsh conditions in Venezuela and died soon after. But his Daughters carried on and grew in numbers and now include both lepers and non-lepers in various countries among the poorest of the poor. Father Louis Variara, pray for us.
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